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What exactly was a date? Why was it so important? Everyone always stressed the importance of truly getting to know someone before committing to a relationship. Normally people could pickup on each other's true intentions within minutes of meeting one another, whether or not they were genuine, etcetera. A date was something far different, however. A date was what followed that initial unveiling of one's true colors, to explore deeper into their personality, their desires and even fears. Frankly, that scared Zanzarog half to death. Not that he wasn't outgoing or had nothing to bring to the table in regards to conversation, he was scared that Mythandriel might grow bored with him. There was only so much they could talk about, only so many war stories the Half Orc could describe to her before there was nothing leftover. Then what? Would they simply share the silence? This is all he could think about as he slowly approached the front door of her home and yet his stride never ceases or slowed. A picnic basket swayed loosely from his left hand and his right firmly held a cup, steam could be seen rising steadily from whatever was within it, likely coffee.


Zanzarog would set the basket down beside him once he had reached her door, inhaling sharply as he casually knocked. He was dressed to impress today, well, kind of. Let's rephrase that, he was dressed far more appropriately than when they first met. His attire actually fit him and wasn't nearly as revealing, although that may have been what attracted Mythandriel to him in the first place, a second glance at least. He sported a white long sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled just above the elbow, three buttons, three buttons were stationed at the chest, all of which were undone. Out of sheer laziness and he wasn't exactly lacking in the muscle department, so it only added to the appeal. His pants were just a shade darker than his complexion, loosely fitted, as loose as they could be without putting too much on display. Once again, his muscle definition was clearly evident. The bottoms of the legs were tucked into a pair of black boots, which weren't nearly as pristine as the rest of his attire, they had some wear to them.


His hair was tied back and in a french braid, courtesy of the acolytes in exchange for riding lessons, thankfully there were no flowers included, at least to his knowledge. Stubble coated his face in all of the right places, had he of shaved he may have not arrived on time, and everyone stressed just how important that was. Which also didn't make sense, because they also said that it was perfectly fine and expected for women to be late. What a double standard--however, Mythandriel could take all the time in the World and he would have happily waited, she was worth every second. Upon answering the door, she would be greeted by a very happy Orc, smiling gleefully with the offering of a cup. “I.. uh.. made you some bean juice! It's probably not nearly as good as yours, you gotta tell me your secrets one of these days.” He chuckled.

@Witches Brew

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Ioreth tried explaining to her what a “date” was. According to her, it was when two people who had feelings for each other, got to know one another. Mythandriel wasn’t sure what all that meant, or what she was supposed to do. Zanzarog was getting ready to meet her here at the cabin when the sun was highest in the sky, around midday. Myth woke early, way earlier than she was supposed to, in an attempt to not be late for Zanzarog’s arrival. She woke in a frenzy, throwing the furs off her cot, but taking care not to wake Ioreth, who had fallen asleep on the couch, clutching a bottle of wine that was once full. She brewed the bean juice, waiting for it to finish anxiously. She debated on doing other things while she waited, but watching each droplet fall slowly calmed her. Once it finished, she poured herself a mug and sat down. Hot bean juice was not to be enjoyed in a hurry, it deserved to be sipped (much unlike Ioreth with the wine last night). 

Once her beverage was finished, she started to clean up around the cabin, throwing away empty bottles, washing dishes, and making sure Ioreth was comfortable before she started to get dressed. 

Most of her clothes has dirt and grass stains on them, but she figured she’d wear something nicer. The first time she met Zan she was covered in dirt, so she wanted to look nice for him. She dug her hands deep into her pile of clothing she kept in the corner of the living room, and pulled out some clothes that were clean, and didn’t smell like fertilizer. She stood, holding the skirt to her waist, trying to see if it was decent enough for a date with the Half-Orc. She started to strip, stepping out of her nightgown, and she shimmied the skirt up to her waist. It was dark grey, and lacy. It didn’t cling to her skin like her leggings do, it was breezy, and she liked how it felt when she twirled. She paired it with a tight fitting lighter gray long sleeved top, the neckline scooped, just below her collarbones. Not that it mattered, she layered a large dusky brown poncho over top of it, and tied a belt around her waist. She ran her fingers over the fabric. Her fingers felt each stitch before sighing. It’d have to do. She ran a comb through her thick silver tendrils, before braiding back a piece that always hung in her face. Her bangs always fell over one of her eyes however, but it was alright. She debated on if she should wear boots, but went against it. She hated shoes, she wanted to feel the earth under her toes. The sun was just rising, giving her hours before Zanzarog would even arrive. Ioreth was still asleep, and Dorian was nestled outside, sleeping also. Breakfast? 

Hours passed, and Mythandriel had woken her cousin, fed her some toast and oats, then sent her back to her bedroom. Now she waited on the couch, her fingers absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair. Then there was a knock at the door, and Myth shot to her feet, and forced herself to slow down as she went to the door. As she opened it, she felt a redness creep across her cheeks. There he stood, looking as handsome as he had the day they met. She smiled, and she opened the door further as he handed her a mug of hot bean juice. 

“Thank you.” She said, taking the mug in her hands, and immediately going for a deep drink. 

It tasted burnt, but she didn’t care. He had given it to her, and she loved it all the same. 

“I hope you had a nice morning.” She said, her eyes meeting his, the redness still prominent deeply on her cheeks. “Did you want to come inside?” She asked, but then she noticed the basket. She grinned, and drank the rest of the coffee quickly. “One second.” She said, rushing inside, and scooping up a fur from her cot, and a bottle of wine from the cabinet. She rushed back out to meet him, carrying it all in a bundle in her arms. “Is this alright?” She asked. “I’m sorry if I seem flustered, I’ve never done this before.”

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There she was. Zan's smile only grew once he took notice of the redness steadily growing on her cheeks, her nervousness was surprisingly reassuring, he wasn't alone after all. He took a moment to take her all in, giving her a quick once over, just to be reminded of how lucky he was. “Well, it certainly doesn't compare to my afternoon.” A wink accompanied his statement. Mythandriel then invited him inside, which took him by surprise, he hadn't prepared himself for that occasion. Mild panic soon became part of the equation, only to settle once she realized he took the liberty of packing them lunch. “Take your time,” He managed to add in just before she headed back inside, only to return with a blanket and a bottle of sorts. What was in the bottle had yet to be registered.


“I thought it would be nice to spend some time outside. It's beautiful out today.” Bending down to retrieve the basket, he'd offer to take the bottle and blanket from her, stacking them neatly with the rest of the contents. “I brought some fruit and…” Zan had to stop and think for a moment, casually lifting the blanket to take a peek inside to refresh his memory. “Bread! I brought fruit and bread.” Another chuckle escaped him.


“Shall we?” He pivoted on his foot and extended his hand to her in hopes that she would take it. As sappy as it might sound, he had looked forward to holding her hand again, however, this time it was purely out of the affection for her that rapidly and continued to develop each passing minute within her presence. He even went as far as trying to lace his fingers between her own, assuming she let him. Every once in awhile his thumb would lightly circle and trace her own.


And then he began walking. He had a general idea of where he wanted to take her, but to be honest, he hadn't done much exploring since they last saw one another. So he would continue walking and hope that she finally caught on to his lack of familiarity. “No need to apologize, sweetheart. I'm new to the concept as well.” Better late than never, to be fair, he was a tad bit distracted. I mean, did you see her?!

@Witches Brew

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The way he looked at her made her feel weak in the knees, but she also felt if she looked away so would crumble to the ground, unable to stand. She’s never felt this way before about anyone. When he spoke his voice was smooth and lovely, and she hung on every word. When he winked at her, she felt her heart catch in her throat. This was her very first date, was this what they felt like? It didn’t matter, he took the fur and the wine from her, and told her the contents of the basket. She lit up. 

“I love fruit and bread!” She said, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much like an idiot. As he turned, he held his hand out for her, and that fluttering sensation returned to her gut, like there were a family of rabbits living inside her. She looked at his hand, and she slowly reached for it, grabbing his hand, her fingers naturally intertwining with his like she’s done this a million times before. Her silver eyes left his hand to gaze up at his face, the redness deepening, her cheeks now a dark crimson, and it spread to the tips of her ears. She felt his thumb gently caress over her own, and she squeezed his hand gently. His skin was rough, calloused, probably from all the horse back riding. She still didn’t understand what made horses so great, but if he liked them, she’d try to understand. 

They started to walk together, and then he said that word again, the word he said when they first departed. “Sweetheart”. What did it mean? 

“What is sweetheart?” She asked him, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “I’ve never heard it before.” She confessed. They continued to walk, passing fields with farmers working tirelessly, donkeys plowing fields, preparing for the crop that was to come.

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“Doesn't everyone?” He laughed. Surely there were plenty of people that didn't care for either, Zanzarog didn't necessarily think the World of them, however, he found them enjoyable nonetheless. His diet mostly consisted of red meat, that aesthetically pleasing body of his definitely didn't survive off of those two alone. Mythandriel took his hand and her fingers fell right into place, just as he had hoped for. A perfect match. Then came the squeeze, which practically made his heart skip a beat, that very moment had been everything he had hoped for, if not more. Soon his face matched her own, flustered and grinning.


“Really? It's a term of endearment, it's a good thing, trust me.” Which wasn't what he wanted to say. ‘It means I like you. A lot.’ But that much was probably obvious. Zan's stare and smile made that pretty apparent. Nobody had ever caught his attention as much as Myth had, he had always put the safety of his people and village first, above everything else. With that coming to an unfortunate end, it was time to start a new chapter, a chapter with her and her alone. There were so many things he wished he could tell her, his heart ached for it, but his brain said it was far too soon. Or was it?


“There! It's perfect.” Zan motioned toward a tree with his basket wielding hand. Just underneath of it was flat ground and was relatively secluded. That last part wasn't nearly as important, he'd flaunt her in front of everyone if he had the opportunity to do so. But just in case their date took a more intimate route, he didn't want people gawking at them, especially if they were to share that experience for the first time together. Now let's not get too far ahead of ourselves here, Zanzarog's intent was mostly innocent, a first kiss with the woman that dominated his dreams wasn't too much to hope for. Right?

@Witches Brew

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Myth felt herself lean into the massive half-Orc as they walked together, his massive hand swallowing her much smaller one. Though she loved bread and fruits, her diet mostly consisted of meat also. Rabbits, deer, and birds were her prey, animals that ruined her herb gardens were pests and didn’t deserve to linger in her opinion. Plus, the skins of the animals made lovely quilts, and the stomachs were used to make bags and water skins. She also used the bones to make jewelry, which reminded her she had to finish that rabbit bone necklace for Viscerex. 

As he explained what ‘sweetheart’ meant, she nodded, smiling as she learned it’s meaning. “Oh! I know, it’s like our word Ulaih.” She smiled and swung their arms as they walked. She wouldn’t tell him what it meant, not yet anyway. 

She walked with him, enjoying the flustered look on his face. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was. He stopped suddenly, exclaiming that he had found the perfect spot. Under a shady secluded tree, with more than enough shade to shield her pale skin from the harsh rays of the sun. “It is perfect.” She pulled him forward, not that he was reluctant, she was just excited. She stopped when they were just under the tree, and the air felt ten degrees cooler in the shade. It was perfect. She helped him lay out her fur, smoothing it out so that no wrinkle was in sight. She then sat in the middle of the fur, her legs folded underneath her. She closed her eyes for a moment, and waited for him to join her. She opened her eyes once again, instantly meeting his. It was such a shock, but it was welcomed. His eyes were so dark, but they weren’t a flat color. They had depth and feeling in them. As she stared closely, she swore she could see specks of blue and purple in there, and as his eyes sparkled, it looked like stars out up within them. He had the sky in his eyes, and it was a sky she wouldn’t mind seeing everyday, even in her dreams. They were beautiful. His eyes were now her favorite color. She wouldn’t admit this out loud of course, it sounded embarrassing even in her head. She stared a little while longer, before blinking and leaning back after she realized she had been looking deeply into his face for too long. “Oh! I’m sorry!” She chuckled nervously, and she lowered her head, her bangs falling into their usual place over her eyes. He must thing she was strange now, for staring. Staring always made others uncomfortable, and she didn’t know if staring was an acceptable thing to do whilst on a date.

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Elvish was such a beautiful language--unlike his own, granted, Orcish did have a certain appeal to it. It was extremely barbaric and intimidating sounding, especially when yelled, it had won wars on that factor alone. There was nothing scarier than an army of bloodthirsty Orc's. They were polar opposites, Elvish and Orcish, Mythandriel's native tongue was elegant and honey to the ears. Zan's language was guttural and harsh, together they formed an almost perfect balance. "I have plenty things I could call you." She wouldn't understand it, unless of course Ioreth had been secretly teaching her. Which wouldn't have been too surprising, especially after their last encounter.


His eyes widened when she suddenly took the lead, practically dragging him, in fact, she would have had he not have picked up the pace. Her strength impressed him, and that was a feat by itself. It made him laugh and Myth likely heard it trailing behind her. Once she came to a stop, he sat the basket down and retrieved the fur blanket from the top. Placing it would unfortunately mean he'd have to let go of her hand. Rolling it out onto the ground, Mythandriel would assist and make sure there were no imperfections, which only made him smile. Taking a seat in front of her, Zan would observe her behavior, blushing slightly as she endlessly stared into his eyes. His gaze wouldn't falter either, he studied her own, lingering momentarily before admiring her facial features. “See something you like, gorgeous?” He proceeded to scrunch his nose at her in an attempt to make her laugh.


Reaching toward the basket, his hand would dig around briefly before retrieving a small red object riddled with seeds, a strawberry. “Here, try this.” Certainly she knew what a strawberry was and what it tasted like, he was more so testing the waters on how she would react to what he did next. He wouldn't place it in her hand, or wait for her to take it, instead, he brought it close to her mouth and offered her a bite. Smiling as he did so. “Good, eh?” A brief chuckle would escape him afterwards.

@Witches Brew

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Myth blinked in confusion when he spoke in Orcish, but she supposed that's how he felt when she spoke elvish. His language was so brutal, and harsh, yet when he spoke it she wasn't intimidated by him. The tone of his voice was something she'd never heard before. Was he joking with her? She wasn't sure. She had asked Ioreth to teach her Orcish, but she said that it was best to learn from the source. That way she'd get words and slang Ioreth didn't know. 

When they sat, after her staring episode, Zan crinkled his nose, while teasing her. She looked up at just the right time to see this, and she covered her mouth with her hand, letting a few giggles slip from behind it. She lowered her hand as she looked back at his face, and she nodded. "Oh, most definitely." She let her hand drop back into her lap, and she smiled softly at him. She found everything about him deliciously intoxicating. Even when he was making silly faces at her, he was so handsome, unlike anything she's ever seen. She found herself staring again, and her hand twitched, urging to reach out, and stroke his cheek, or tuck a strand of hair behind his pointed ear. But she resisted, her hand stayed in her lap as he rummaged around in the picnic basket. 

He pulled out a strawberry, and she watched him curiously as he held it out close to her lips. She looked at the berry in his hands, then at his face. He was waiting for her to bite it. Slowly, she reached forward, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She opened her mouth, her lips parting as she reached out to bite the tender fruit. Her lips enveloped the morsel, and she bit down, not noticing that his fingers were caught in the crossfire. She bit down hard, only then feeling the hard bone and flesh of her companion. 

She pulled back, her hand going to her mouth immediately. "I am so sorry!" She gasped, her eyes wide. "I-I didn't know, I am so sorry!" 

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“Well that's a relief.” Zanzarog added in while he was in the midst of feeling around for the fruit, which he'd soon regret. Obviously Myth found him attractive; otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to a date in the first place. Looks weren't necessarily the most important aspect one should look for in a mate, at least that's what his culture practiced, but they certainly helped tip the scales. There was something here other than just basic attraction though, a spark, a spark that would ignite a wildfire. Mythandriel probably picked up on that just on the way he stared at her, how he took in every imperfection, if one even existed. He had hoped she felt the same way.


Then it happened. It may have come as a surprise, but no matter how masculine or strong one might have been… A bite, was a bite. It was painful no matter how high your pain tolerance was, like stepping on a lego barefooted, it hurt. A typical response may have been to immediately pull back whatever had been bitten to inspect for damages, but that would only further embarrassed both of them. Instead, he aimed to only further embarrass Myth, in a very clever way. Moving his finger away from her mouth, tossing the strawberry aside, the rest of his fingers cradled her chin. His thumb swirled across her cheek just as it had to her thumb. Zanzarog stared at her for a couple moments before mouthing, ‘Screw it’, leaning toward her while simultaneously pulling her in until their lips finally met. Interrupting her apology with haste. She probably could have accidentally stabbed him and he would have reacted in the same way.


It wasn't rough, but it was heated. With all of the pent up emotions he had been feeling since their initial introductions, all packed into one kiss. Was this too fast? Would it backfire? Either was a possibility, but something told him it wouldn't. His eyes closed at the very last second before their lips met, just on the off chance she reacted poorly to his decision to move in closer.

@Witches Brew

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"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" 

The whole thing took her by surprise, and it all happened so quickly. He touched her face, cupping her chin, gently caressing her cheek. He pulled her in, raising her chin, the rest of her body going to follow it. He was so tall, even when he was sitting she lad to lean upwards on her knees to meet his lip. They didn't crash into hers, they were gentle, pecking lightly, testing the waters. Then, once he was sure, the kiss went deeper, more weight going in behind it. 

Mythandriel had never been kissed before, and when he kissed her, her eyes went wide, but she didn't fight it. There was this, energy, this spark of light that seemed to ignite when their lips touched. She didn't know what to do, this was all so new to her. But, she didn't pull away. She pressed her weight into the kiss also, her eyes closing. Her head turned slightly, and her hands, once at her side, where now holding his face, her fingers slightly digging into his stubble. It was scratchy, but she liked it. 

She pulled away, her face red, and she was breathing heavily. The kiss took her breath away, but it wasn't a bad feeling. Myth stared into his eyes, and a grin grew on her face. Suddenly, she lept forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, the sudden weight making them fall backwards, so that he lay on his back. She giggled, now laying flat on his chest. She looked down on his face, her fingers once again feeling the stubble on his face. 

"That was nice, I really liked that." She said, smiling. "I didn't know you could do that." 

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Mythandriel embraced the kiss and time had suddenly came to a standstill, it couldn't have happened at a better moment. Before he knew it, he was flat on his back and she was laying atop him. Staring up at her, he couldn't help but smile, the redness had returned to her face. His hands instinctively traced her body, leading from her shoulders, to her back and eventually her hips. Zan would stop there, as much as he wanted to continue exploring. “If only you knew,” He retorted, chuckling afterwards. They were both inexperienced, but it didn't take a rocket scientist. 


“If you liked it so much, then why did you stop?” He laughed once more, only to lean forward again. This time was different though, the ice was already broken, he wouldn't hold back. As they connected, his head tilted to deepen it even further and his lips slowly parted. Before he knew it, his tongue was lapping at her own, assuming she followed suit. A single hand trailed further down, stopping and resting atop her rear. Squeezing gently and playfully. 


If he was moving too fast for her, she would inform him of that, and he would respectfully stop chasing. Not that he had planned on taking it this far to begin with, the heat of the moment and all that. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he'd open his eyes once more to gauge her reaction to everything thus far. “How's that?” Zan then nuzzled his nose against her own.

@Witches Brew

Edited by Better Than Gore

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It seemed like Zan has no qualms to her tackle, and his hands roamed her body, just stopping at her hips. She smiled down at him, her hands sliding down his face, down his neck, and landing on his large pecks. They weren’t as hard as she thought they’d be, they were soft, pillowy. She wanted to rest her head there and take a nap, but her heart was beating so fast in her chest, she doubted she could sleep right now. 

He asked her a question, but didn’t give her time to answer. His lips crashed into hers again. This one was hungrier, more carnal. It was heavy, and it was something Myth had only experienced in a fight. This kind of energy was scary, but in this context, it was exhilarating. She craved it. She wanted more of it. She tried to match his ferocity, leaning deeper into it, her head tilted farther. As he opened his mouth, she let hers open too. His tongue lapped at hers, and she tried to avoid the tusks that protruded out of his mouth. 

As they kissed, his hands roamed further down towards her bottom, and when he squeezed it, she let out a squeak of surprise. She didn’t mind it, feeling his hand on top of her skirt, squeezing the soft plump flesh she hid under there was exciting. When he broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected their mouths, and Myth wiped it away, and she smiled. 

“I wonder what other things people do with their mouths.” 

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“Ahem,” Zanzarog cleared his throat, he honestly couldn’t tell if she was genuinely curious or whether she was hinting at something. “A lot, I would imagine.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. If they continued at the rate they were going, they would have been far more acquainted than they had originally bargained for. As much as he wanted to continue their naughty escapade, there was no need to rush, especially if they felt so strongly of one another. That definitely wouldn’t stop his mind from wandering further though, he could only imagine what it would be like, how magical it would be in comparison to their first kiss. “Mostly for food and drink though, right?” Zanzarog’s eyebrow raised and yet another laugh broke free. Taking a moment to get his mind back on track, he suddenly rose, sitting up straight and forcing Myth into a straddling position. Casually his closet hand sought the leg of his pants, grabbing at the fabric in an attempt to adjust and perhaps hide a noticeable bulge.

“Speaking of! Would you like something to eat, besides my finger?” Leaning toward the basket, he’d struggle to retrieve it but inevitably his finger snagged on and drug it closer to them. Peeking into it, his gaze would continually shift from the confinements to her, hoping to get some sort of indication that she wanted something. Maybe the bottle she brought with them, whatever it was, she sure didn’t hesitate to grab it when they originally departed. Alcohol perhaps? Zanzarog partook every once in awhile, mostly in social situations, so he wasn’t necessarily against it.  Maybe it would aid them in opening up a bit more, in regards to their feelings for one another, that would certainly move things along. Their kiss was pretty evident, but if it was out in the air, maybe they could spend more time together. There was nobody else he’d rather spend a day with than her.

@Witches Brew

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Myth grunted as she slid off Zan’s tummy, and into his lap, straddling his waist as he tried to answer her question. Even though he laughed, Myth felt a little silly when he answered her. “You’re right yeah, mostly for food and drink.” She chuckled, trying to hide her embarrassment behind her hair, and she twirled a piece between her fingers as he reached for the basket. 

He asked if she wanted anything to eat, and she nodded. “I’ll have some bread, please.” She said, and she squirmed slightly, feeling something bulging between his hips. She figured it was a rock or something, but she could feel it poking her thighs. She looked over  to the bottle of wine by the basket, and she leaned over, and grabbed it. She turned it over in her hands, and read the label. “IORETH” was scribbled across it, and she smiled. Surely her cousin wouldn’t mind if one bottle was gone, would she? 

As he rummaged, she put the tip of the bottle in her mouth, and with her teeth she yanked the cork out, startling herself when it made a popping sound. She spat the cork out, and she tipped the bottle into her mouth, letting the dark red liquid spill inside, and she took a large gulp, then held the bottle out before swallowing. 

“Here.” She said, a smile of her face, a bit of wine had spilled on her face, down her chin. She wiped it away, not letting it drip on her shirt. “It’s good, promise.” 

Ioreth didn’t let her drink much, claiming she was not old enough to drink. But she figured if she was old enough to let a half-Orc dominate her mouth, she could drink some wine. 

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“Bread it is!” Almost immediately his hand dove inside the basket once more, retrieving a loaf of bread he had picked up in the market on his way to Myth’s humble abode. Breaking a couple of pieces off of the loaf, he would trade her for the bottle. He could smell it the second she popped the cork out, he knew wine when he smelt it, they had a pungent fruity odor. The color was also a dead giveaway. Swirling it around inside the bottle with a simple rotation of his wrist, he brought it to his nose to smell it once again briefly before taking a swig. Wine definitely wasn’t something to just chug, it had to be sipped, so that’s exactly what he did. Casually he took a sip and let his taste buds familiarize themselves before swallowing. She wasn’t lying, it wasn’t too bad. He was more of an ale guy himself, but this would have to do for now.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Small talk, really? Regret set in the minute he opened his mouth, oh how he wished they could go back to what they had been doing just moments ago. But this is what had to be done. Zanzarog needed to figure out what made her tick, besides hot bean juice and almost moving to second base. He then took another drink from the bottle, then proceeded to wash the wine down with a bite of bread. It was perfect. Crust baked to perfection and the bread itself was a perfect consistency, if only he remembered to pack butter or honey. Or both for that matter.

Then another gulp of wine. Sipping was now apparently out of the equation. Once it had been swallowed he would offer the bottle back to her. "I don't know how to put this without sounding silly, but, I.. uh, I like you. A lot. I'd like to see where these feelings take us, I'd also like to have you as my own." Guess a little liquid courage did the trick. Hopefully Myth understood the jist of what he was saying, he didn't know how else to put it and didn't want to just come right out of the gate with 'Will you be my mate?', she probably didn't understand Orc culture and he really didn't want to explain that part of his life to her quite yet.

@Witches Brew

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